Maybe It's Best You Leave Me Alone
by Ashes Of The Innocent
Summary: Hanna deals with the reality of that night and seeks some sort of closure. Post-S2, probably pre-S3.


**AN: My take on the awaited showdown between Hanna and Mona. Title taken from the song _It Ends Tonight _by The All-American Rejects.**

**Oh, and if it seems like Mona's not in her "perpetual state of hyper-reality" that's because I don't trust Sullivan and believe that anything she says is complete and utter bogus. Otherwise, enjoy. **

* * *

She's queasy just at the thought of it – going there, facing _her_, seeing it all be real are just a few of the things that scare the hell out of her at the moment.

_You've got to find closure, _Dr. Sullivan had said. Closure which couldn't possibly be found by staring at a couch and talking to one of your dead friends, Hanna knows, not again. This time she's got no excuse to confront Mona face-to-face – this time, Mona's alive and well (physically; mentally, she's a nutcase) and the only way to get over this, apparently, is to _talk_. How _talk _is going to do her any good, when all she wants to do is hit something, is beyond her.

"You really don't have to go," Emily tells her, looking up from her magazine.

Hanna meets her eyes in the mirror and gives her a brief, half-smile that feels more like a grimace. "No, I really do. This is…it's A. If I don't go, I'll just be avoiding the inevitable."

Emily nods. "Okay," she agrees, like she understands.

And maybe she does. She's had to live with losing someone too, over the last few months.

Hanna tries to shake off the thought that Mona – _A _– might have had anything to do with Maya's death. There's already enough betrayal on the plate as it is, enough near-death experiences, deleted text-messages that will always be more than just that, enough of everything that A could have done. Add in Maya's death and the ultimate grief of one of her best friends it caused, and Hanna's pretty sure she won't care if Mona's condition is purely psychological – she'll definitely do more than just talk.

Hanna checks her makeup one more time in the mirror, arranges her hair, then walks to the door. Emily doesn't look up from where she's reading her magazine on what used to be her bed, not even when Hanna says, "I'll be back in no time."

"Okay."

"Will you be all right?"

"Hanna." Emily glances up, smiling faintly. "I'll be fine. You just go on, okay? You need this."

"Right. It's closure, right? Which, when I think about it, is probably just some sort of fancy word for really unnecessary wumbo-jumbo shrink stuff," she says, with a touch of sarcasm lacing her words.

Emily's smile broadens, becoming more-or-less genuine, and Hanna stores that in her memory – seeing Emily smile, weirdly enough, is a rare treat nowadays.

"Exactly. Just…don't throttle her or anything."

Hanna smirks. "I'll try." On another note, she asks, "When's your mom coming back?"

"Tomorrow. My dad's going to be with her. Mom's probably moving back completely."

"Good. You need them."

The light fades off Emily's face faster than a passing wave and she mumbles a "yeah" that Hanna barely hears.

"Okay. I'm leaving."

"Well, hurry up already. You've been standing like that for the past half-hour."

Hanna moistens her lips and nods. "Okay. Now, I'm _really _leaving."

"I mean it, Hanna," Emily warns, just before she leaves. "Don't do anything you'll regret."

Hanna's not sure she'll be able to.

XXX

"Mona, you've got a visitor."

The lady working there looks over at Hanna expectantly, but Hanna's just standing there, breath stuck in her throat, staring at what used to be her friend – no_, torturer. _Mona's sitting in a straitjacket, hair a complete mess, crouched over what appears to be a bowl of really, really bad mashed potatoes and a slimy piece of meat resting in the sea of greenish yellow. Hanna's not really sure why it's so different seeing her now than it was on that night, but it _feels _different.

It's been months – months in which she's had time to process it all, come to grips with it, go halfway to accept it. That night, the idea had been fresh and new, raw, like an opened, bleeding wound – now, the wound's clotted, but never really healed, leaving in its stead a scar across her heart, that stings in time with Mona's irregular, hoarse breathing.

"I'll leave you two alone," the woman says and leaves. Hanna's about to turn around and ask her to stay, but that's just stupid and cowardly, especially considering Mona's in no disposition to do anything.

She walks in tentatively, every corner and detail of the cruel, grotesque painting drawn by the truth becoming clearer and brighter, every step Hanna makes leading her to face the reality of it all. And when she does, it's strange and odd.

It _hurts _too, but it's not unfamiliar either.

It's the same feeling of shock – the same rush, the same tumbling of emotions, like on that night, only harder, stronger, more real. Now there's now previous shock to stop her. No previous exhaustion or excitement to dull out the effects it's having on her, seeing her past friend/torture like this – it's all _there_, in painstakingly perfect detail, the truth carved around the pupils of her eyes like a sadistic, grinning clown, waving at her and drawing her in, murmuring the words.

_Mona is A. Mona's A. Mona is A._

_Mona is A, Hanna, _Spencer had told her, managing to speak in that firm, get-over-it, yet not unkind voice that only Spencer can manage. _Mona is A and you've been denying it for too long. _Mona _is _A.

Mona is A. A is Mona. Mona is A.

Mona and A – the same person.

Mona and A – friend and psychopath who's tried to hurt her and her friends for God knows how long.

Mona is A.

"You know, if you came here to stare at me all day, you could've brought me some makeup or something. This place is terrible when it comes to everyday things a girl actually _needs_. Did you know that bathrooms _reek _of crap every time you step in? Ugh."

The present hits her like a two-ton metal slinger, right across the face

_(like a rushing driving car driven by whom you thought was a _friend)

and her eyes focus on Mona, finally, properly.

Her friend

_(torturer)_

_(MONA IS A, HANNA)_

is looking up at her, sunken eyes flashing emptily in her gray face, but there's a ghost of the confident, Queen-B, bitchy

_(she was my FRIEND)_

Mona-smirk pulling her mouth upwards.

"Well?" Mona says sharply, though her words are subdued by the coarseness of her voice. She probably doesn't have much to talk about to anyone around here. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Hanna takes in a deep – _deepdeepdeep_, so deep she wishes she could swallow the world with it and just get away from it all – breath, and forces herself to look Mona, her friend

_MONA IS A_

in the eye.

"You betrayed me," Hanna says, weakly, and Mona scoffs.

"Well, _obviously_. But only because you did it first, honey. It's treat people the way you want to be treated, you know. You made your choice."

"No – you – you _betrayed _me." She speaks louder, voice firmer, and finally, finally, finally, among the shock and realization and reality and the truth, there's the burning, comforting flicker of anger. _Finally_, something to dull it all out. "You _hurt _me. You tried to kill _me_ and my friends."

Mona arches an eyebrow at her, her puffy face shining with a certain whiteness that makes Hanna sick, so she turns her gaze away.

"So what of it?" Mona merely asks.

Hanna feels her fists clench involuntarily, and she thinks of the time – both times – when she could have ended A's life. She had it all there. The solution to all their problems this _psychopath _had brought in their life; right there, in front of her, all resting in the acceleration of her car. But both times something held her back.

"I just want to know – _why_?"

Mona narrows her eyes at her. Hanna sees her do it from her periphery. She still looks away, scared, honest to God _frightened_, by the vicious look she'll see on Mona's face. She saw it all the time; when Mona picked on Lucas, when Mona complained about Noel, but also when she stood up for Hanna. But now it's directed at _her_, Hanna, her best friend

_rat torturee victim_

_(MONA IS A)_

and Hanna's afraid she won't see Mona, but the flash of evil, crazy A she saw on that night, so many weeks ago.

"You left me," Mona spits out bitterly. "We were friends, and the moment those bitches lured you in, you went _back _to them. _I _was your friend. _I _was your best friend. Who was there to help you after dear Alison died? It was _me_."

"You tried to _kill _me."

"_Nobody _betrays me, Hanna. You were worse than Alison, the moment you decided to go back to your posse. _Worse_."

Hanna cringes, thinking of dances and stolen money, and finally looks back towards Mona. She expects to see a whole world of terror, to see a flashing neon sign across her forehead, written in deep, thick-red blood, _I'M THE BOOGEYMAN, RUN, RUN, RUN HANNA_.

But it's _not_. There's _nothing _there, literally nothing anymore. Mona – A – is _broken_, ruined, weakened by the days spent in solitary and heaps of drugs that don't help. She's _nothing_.

Just a tired, lone, crazy psychopath who hurt her. Hurt her more than anything else.

"You were worse than Alison," Mona whispers fervently. "Alison was never my friend. _You _were. You betrayed me, Hanna, and left me for those stupid bitches. You played with me, made me believe you _cared_, and then up and befriended them all over again. You became the _new _Alison."

"I am _nothing _like Alison."

Mona studies her face for a long time, then smirks again. "Really? What about Lucas? What about the countless times you lied to me? What about the _pain _you put me through?"

"Dammit, Mona – _I _didn't do anything. I tried to be there for you and them, but what with A—"

Mona laughs suddenly, long and hard, and it's a sound that scares Hanna more than any monster image she had in mind of her past-friend. Mona reminds her of old Disney movies and ridiculous female villains, plotting some sort of well-thought out revenge.

_The types who fall and lose always._

_Mona is harmless now, Hanna, _Dr. Sullivan said. _She can't hurt you, unless you _let _her. Take control. Fight it. Do it, Hanna, because you _can.

"You still think of me and _A _as two separate people, don't you?"

Hanna tries not to give her any satisfaction – whatever sick satisfaction Mona could possibly draw out of this – so she just tightens her jaw and glares defiantly at her.

"Well, who knows if we're the same?"

Hanna feels her fists unclench for just a second, and she's ashamed with the rush of emotions that follow in just the briefest of seconds: hope, hope, hope, some sort of shredded, tiny _hope _that maybe Mona _isn't _A.

"What?"

"Oh, I got you there, didn't I?" Mona smirks wider still. "Still hoping I'm not A, aren't you? Still living in your little dream-world, aren't you?"

"Look – you know what? I'm done." Hanna's suddenly exhausted, her anger a steady, faint thrum behind the sheer weariness that wraps around her bones and brain. "I'm done with it all, Mona. I'm _done_."

"You're _never _done with me, Hanna. You'll always remember me as the best friend who tried to screw up your life – and managed to, eventually."

There's a powerful impulse that goes through Hanna and tells her to lunge forward and throw that bowl of food right in Mona's face. It's that cruel thought that makes her think back to Alison and how she treated – how they all did, ignoring it

_if you ignore it, it'll go away—_

—Mona, and she's stuck in between hating her, pitying her, and just wanting to bury it all under a smooth blanket of fake smiles and little white lies that mean nothing.

Hanna lets her fingers loose, flexes them, and says, in a strained voice, "I'm sorry, Mona. I'm sorry for never standing up for you with Ali—"

"It's not _about _Alison!" Mona half-screams, leaning forward and scowling at her from a dirt-stained face and blank, lost eyes. "It was _never _about Alison! You…I was your _friend_."

"Yes," Hanna answers. "You were." Her eyes harden. "Which is why you shouldn't have done what you did. I may have done more wrongs than right, Mona, along the years, all for Ali's sake. But at least I valued our friendship."

Mona doesn't answer; her nose is scrunched up, her features awash with crystal clear anger. She doesn't like what she's hearing.

But okay. That's that.

_MONA IS A._

Yes. She is.

Mona is A.

For once, Hanna can think that without a statement of denial following it. Whatever Sullivan says about Mona's condition, it doesn't change the fact that she hurt her and her friends, all for revenge or betrayal.

"Tell me one more thing," Hanna adds, as an afterthought. "Did you kill Maya? Because if you did—"

She's interrupted by Mona's weak chuckle, weaker and emptier than the last. "Please. Do you think I'd waste my time on dead-weight like Maya?"

Hanna freezes. "Wait, what? You didn't kill her?"

Mona's face flashes with a bleak smile that stretches wide until it reveals bite-marks along white inner-lips and yellowing teeth. "I thought of it, I guess. Let you girls know that you can't mess with A. But someone beat me to it."

"You're lying."

Mona cocks her head to one side, looking thoughtful. "Maybe."

"_Tell _me." Hanna can feel the anger, refueled, ready to lash out. But no, not yet. Not until she gets the answer she needs. "We all know Maya would never kill herself – someone killed her. _Who _did?"

Mona presses her lips into a tight, bloodless slit and just stares up at her, humming quietly to herself.

_Take control. _

_Don't let her get to you._

_MONA IS A._

Things they've been telling her for weeks.

But she doesn't think she can respect either Sullivan's or Aria's suggestions.

"You can go now, Hanna," Mona says coldly. "You're taking up a lot of my time for _recess_. I have a show to catch. Mind leaving?"

"Who killed Maya? What's going on? Mona—"

"I could call the nurse over and have her drag you out. The only thing they actually help us with is if we have over-excited puppies lapping up our ever story." Mona gives her a pointed look, tilting her head towards the door. "So, uh, yeah. Get out of here. Like, now."

Hanna protests, the words halfway across her lips before someone clears their throat and says, "You should leave now, miss."

She glances at the impassive lady, waiting patiently, and then sighs and walks to the entrance.

"I do hope you'll visit more often, sweetie. I missed you."

_So did I._

_MONA IS A._

Mona is A.

A is Mona.

"Oh, and Hanna." Hanna pauses by the door and turns her head towards her past torturer. Towards A, who's no longer the faceless person in the dark hoodie, but someone who used to be her friend _and _torturer. "You may think you're done with A – but you'll _never _be done with me."

Hanna holds her head high, striding confidently down the corridors. "Goodbye, Mona."

XXX

At home, she has a hidden picture in her drawer of her and Mona at one of their parties, both smiling towards the camera.

She takes a match and watches the edges of the perfect, picturesque image burn slowly and turn to black and ashes as she realizes the truth and reality, and for the first time in _weeks_, comes to accept it.

Mona is A.

Next to her, her phone buzzes with a new message.

_Mona's A, she's out of the way, and you little liars have bigger fish to deal with. One can only deny it for so long. Sleep tight, Beauty, and don't let the bedbugs bite__! You'll need it._

_-A_


End file.
